


Your Goodbyes are My Goodbyes

by FreedomColouredBlue



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreedomColouredBlue/pseuds/FreedomColouredBlue
Summary: "I thought you'd like to say your goodbyes..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first contribution to the Rhack community, hope you like it! Sorry for my bad English in advance, please feel free to correct me, but I had to write it... I love Borderlands, and I love these two with all my heart <3
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

 

Oddly enough, convincing Fiona to take the scenic route to the Gortys upgrade's location was easy. Maybe she's just tired of the desert like the others, or – and this is more likely – she's tired of _him_ , Rhys thinks with a small, secret smile dripping of self-deprecating vitriol.

The hardest part, if he's completely honest, was forcing Jack out of... wherever he goes when he's not here, right beside him, cackling and raving and basically being his usual, 24/7 douchebag self.

Right now though, to Rhys' utter delight, Jack remains completely silent.

And still.

Thank God for small miracles.

Maybe that's because he knows. He knows where they are, the meaning of what is right before his incorporeal eyes, and it infuriates him.

Rhys could've sworn he did see him shiver at the sight of the bleak, ravishing jungle around them. Then again, holograms don't shiver. Well, not like _this_ anyway.

Like they're being chased and they didn't know it until now

There's nothing left but ruins.

Ruins of a kingdom long gone, but not forgotten. Not by a long shot.

«I know what happened here. Everyone at Hyperion does. It's part of the 'Handsome Jack's Worship Package' these days.»

Jack, blue and trembling and unstable, doesn't respond. Unflinching, shoulders curved under an unseen, unexpected burden for the first time since Rhys met him, he glares and glares and glares.

As if he could pierce reality in its tainted, unforgiving heart, killing anything that doesn't suit his vision.

But the ruin towers over them, dark and accusing, and at their feet a small, pretty thing of a epitaph lets itself be kissed by the first tendrils of dawn, revealing itself for what it is, and nothing more.

 

_Angel – Forever Free_

 

Rhys sighs. There's nothing left but ruins, nothing else would fit in this pit of anguish and lost delusions.

Not even words.

«R&D took her body,» he whispers, the church of vines and rusty LoaderBots' parts over their heads echoing of the implication like a curse. «But according to our field agents, the Vault Hunters made a little shrine for her.»

Jack bites his lip. How frustrating must it be, Rhys ponders, wanting to bleed and not having enough blood to fill a tear?

At their feet, Angel is forever free.

Maybe she's the lucky one.

Jack straightens. His back is like the blade of a guillotine, cutting sunbeams like locks of hair. He doesn't say anything, but the quivering darkness between Rhys' heartstrings knows he doesn't need to.

He knows.

And Rhys knows Jack would kill him right here, right now if he could.

«I thought you'd like to say your goodbyes...» he explains, not in a half-assed attempt to save himself – that would be futile, if not completely stupid – but because Jack must know how everything Rhys does these days is for him, and him alone.

He _has_ to know.

Jack breaths. Breaths for the first time since he crawled out of Rhys' head like a shameful, unspeakable fantasy. It's a horrific thing to witness, like a star collapsing on itself, carving a black hole into the infinite.

«When we get back on Helios, kiddo,» his voice grazes Rhys' hears like frost on metal. «Maybe I won't kill you.»

Jack caresses the gravestone like the soft, cherished head of a nine year old, and disappears.

Rhys, alone with Handsome Jack's daughter, allows himself to hope.

After all, it's something.

Not a thanks, not gratitude or even a promise.

But it's something.

 

 

 


End file.
